


world so cold

by eighthcaramel



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: M/M, aaahh song titles, also i suck at summaries, i suck at titles too, im not the best writer out there dont kill me, mentions of self harm, runs away, this is so dumb im sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-28
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 08:28:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2686010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eighthcaramel/pseuds/eighthcaramel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ashton hates his life, and Luke wants to change that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Ashton hated the city.

He hated the bright lights, the loud noises. He hated the loud music coming from next door that never seemed to stop no matter how many times he asked. He hated how the walls were so thin, and that he could hear his neighbors have sex, which pissed Ashton off to  _no end_. He hated the people who had the gall to honk their car horns in the dead of night. He hated the occasional gunshots he heard as he got ready for bed.

He hated his new apartment. The wallpaper was peeling in multiple places, the sink in the kitchen was leaky, the shower in the bathroom was never warm enough. Needless to say, his apartment was shit. Not only that, it was also in the bad part of the neighborhood. But, he  _did_ find it a lot more tolerable than his old house.

His old home was a horrible house somewhere in the suburbs. His father had abandoned his family when he was small, causing his mother to sink into the deep hole that is depression. She found comfort in the alcohol at the bar not too far away from the house, deciding to go out rather than spend time with her children. She was never home to take care of Ashton and his siblings. Ashton felt much guilt when he left (he still does), and he misses his siblings very much, but he just couldn't take it anymore. Aside from missing his siblings, he was glad to get away. (He'd visit his siblings soon.)

The very few boxes he had brought with him were still unpacked, and sat near the wall in the living room. Also in the living room was a cheap couch, old and faded. In front of the couch was a small wooden coffee table that was slightly dusty from lack of use. The bathroom was small, and the mirror above the sink was cracked at the bottom right corner. In the single bedroom was a mattress fit for two that the old owner of the apartment left behind, pressed against the far wall with a blanket and pillow lazily thrown onto it. After seeing how many random stains were on it, he really didn't want to use it, but unfortunately he had no choice due to finances. He was  _not_  going to sleep on the floor  _or_  the couch (they were both ridiculously uncomfortable. At least the mattress wasn’t as hard as a rock). On top of the blanket was Ashton, sprawled and half-awake.

He'd been lying there, thinking about his current situation. He had found a CD & music shop down the road the other day, and, being his musical self, had immediately asked for a job application. Ever since he had moved to this damnable place, he's been borrowing money from various people and friends. Those people never liked when he asked them for money, however, he still managed to charm his way into taking their money. Once he gets the call that tells him he's hired, he'll pay them back. Eventually.

He stares at the ceiling absentmindedly, ignoring the nearly inaudible buzzing of his phone. Someone had been texting him nonstop for the past several minutes. Why, he didn't know. It probably wasn't even that important. He sighs deeply, digging through the mound of blanket for the device. Finally finding it after however many minutes, he sits up and stares at the brightly lit screen.

 

_3 Missed Calls. 9:31AM_

_11 New Messages. 9:27AM_

 

His eyebrows furrow in thought as he unlocked his phone. Hmph. Shame on them, not leaving a voicemail. He opens his messages, seeing that they were all from Calum, his very good friend who was the only one who dared to text him at this ungodly hour. Ashton squints to see the texts.

 

_Hey are u up_

_8:55AM_

_We're still going to that new club tonight right_

_9:03AM_

_Ash answer ur phone_

_9:13AM_

_Do u want to meet me for breakfast_

_9:14AM_

_Ur still sleeping aren't u_

_9:14AM_

_Dude wake up_

_9:19AM_

_Fine don't get free breakfast_

_9:20AM_

_Turns out I'm almost broke_

_9:23AM_

_I'm coming to ur house_

_9:23AM_

_I'm almost there_

_9:25AM_

_Walking up the steps_

_9:27AM_

 

Oh, so  _that_  would explain the continuous knocking the past few minutes! Ashton groaned, lying back down. The knocking stopped, thank the- Never mind, it's back. Ashton covered his head with the un-fluffy pillow he used. There's a pattern to the knocks now. He mumbles a profanity and reluctantly stands up. He doesn't bother changing out of his sleepwear and walks to the front door, flinging it open.

Of course, the one who is currently pestering him is, indeed, Calum. A scowl appears on Ashton's face. "What do you want?"

"We're going out for breakfast." Calum strode into the apartment, easily slipping past Ashton. "You still haven't unpacked?" He eyes the boxes against the wall. Ashton opens his mouth to speak, but Calum continues talking. "Hurry up and change," he says, turning to face Ashton, who is currently glaring at him.

"I'm not hungry," Ashton breathes out, running his hand through his hair, and starts to walk back to the bedroom. "And didn't you say you were broke?"

"I borrowed some money from Mali. And  _bullshit_. We're going out to breakfast. You need to get out of the house and stop sulking." Calum puts his hands on his hips sometime in the middle of his words.

"I'm not sulking," Ashton mutters, halting to face Calum.

"Yes, you are! You haven't gotten out of the house since you got here! That's the total reason we're checking out that new club tonight!!"

"I don't want to go." Ashton turns back around, hurrying to go lie down before Calum grabs his wrist, stopping him again. He turns to see Calum pouting. Ashton does his best to be persistent, but then he finally sighs in disappointment. No one was able to resist the powerful pout that Calum made which, in turn, made him look like a sad puppy. Not even Ashton. "Fine," he mumbles.

This causes Calum to instantly brighten. "Great, now get changed!"

 

 

Ashton trudges behind Calum in black skinnies, regretting his choice in pants. They were walking to a fast food restaurant that  _had_  to be at least two miles away, in Ashton's opinion. Yes, they were walking, even though Calum has a really cool car that Ashton absolutely  _loves_  and is very usable. He's already panting heavily, and it's only been five minutes. Calum, on the other hand, seems to be in perfect condition. He was very chatty this morning, much to Ashton's dismay. He tuned his friend out a long while ago and instead tried to focus on the crisp wind that brushed at his cheeks, ignoring his legs’ screams for him to stop.

". . . -n, are you even listening?" Calum had stopped to face Ashton, with his hands on his hips.

Ashton nearly bumps into Calum. "Yeah, I hear you," he responds, dismissing him with a wave. "Are we almost there?"

“Hear and listen are two very different things.” Calum sighs, deciding to let this conversation go, and points to the shop ahead. "It's across the street." Tables were scattered near the entrance for those who wanted to sit outside.

Ashton thanks whatever god that decided to listen to his pleas to stop. He quickly walked across the street once he deemed it safe, with Calum on his heels. They enter the cafe, and man, Ashton is so,  _so_  glad that the cafe had air conditioning. Though, that doesn't change the fact that he was still dripping with sweat and the aching of his muscles making his entire body feel like lead.

They walk up to the counter and Ashton does his best trying to ignore the odd stares directed at them. Well, they were actually most likely staring at Ashton, considering he's still sweating a waterfall. Calum tells Ashton to find a spot to sit while he orders, and Ashton immediately does as told.

He chooses a booth next to the window, sliding into the seat with a sigh. He leans back in contentment and closes his eyes, very grateful that chairs were invented. The coolness of the seat that was pressed against his back felt amazing. Sooner or later, Calum slides into the seat across from Ashton. "Tired?" Calum chuckles.

Ashton slowly opens his eyes, instantly glaring daggers at the Kiwi. "No, not at all," he says sarcastically. Ashton turns to look out the window.

Calum takes a breath, and silence falls over the two. That is, until Calum decides to ruin the peace again. "Why don't you want to have fun?"

Ashton stares at him. "What do you mean?" he asks, genuinely confused.

"Well, since you got here, all you do is lie in that filthy hovel. Whenever I invite you to hang out, you say no. I’m pretty sure you haven’t smiled a true smile since before you came here.” Calum leans on the table. “What's your deal?"

Ashton becomes silent. Was that true? He thinks of what he's been doing. His normal routine was to wake up, go back to sleep, and to wake up again for a bowl of cereal. It would be noon by this point, and he would go people-watching in his bedroom, leaning against the window sill. After about an hour, he would go . . . back to sleep. He didn't have a TV to pass the time, or a laptop. He would go to the library occasionally to use the computer, but even then, he wasn't satisfied.

"I don't want to talk about it," he finally says.

Calum's name is called, and he gets up to get their meal after sighing deeply.

Ashton takes the initiative to think about his past. He doesn’t remember changing when he left his family. He was a lot less happy when he was still living with them. He was sure he smiled when he first got here. But then, that was a week ago.

Calum setting – well, dropping – the tray on the table jolted Ashton out of his thoughts. Ashton’s eyes swept over the contents of the tray: two plates of bacon, eggs, and toast. A simple breakfast.

“I got you chocolate milk,” he says, setting a bottle of chocolate milk in front of Ashton and orange juice in front of himself. He sits down afterwards.

Ashton mutters a quick ‘thanks’ before digging in. A few bites in, he pauses to open his chocolate milk and sips it.

“Did you ever look for a job?” Calum asks him after a few moments of silence.

Ashton swallows the food in his mouth. “Yeah. I’m waiting for the call to see if they hire me.” He takes another bite.

“Good. You need to get out of the house.” Calum takes a drink of his orange juice. “You should meet someone.”

Ashton nearly chokes at the suggestion. “What?! No way, I’m perfectly fine by myself!” Even Ashton doesn’t know why he’s getting so worked up about this. A few people turn to look.

Now it’s Calum’s turn to stare. His expression is unreadable.

Ashton tries to calm himself. “What?”

Calum shakes his head. “You need someone to help take your mind off things.” He sighs and gets up from his seat. He pulls out his wallet and sets money on the table. “I forgot I had to take care of something. Just leave the money if you want to leave; they can keep the change.” With that, Calum hurries out of the restaurant.

Ashton stares at Calum’s back as he leaves. What was that about?

In truth, Ashton has always been like this. Stubborn. Hardheaded. He always kept to himself, and he prefers to keep it that way. He stayed away from people and was basically a recluse. Getting attached to someone only brings hurt and broken hearts.

So he won’t.

 

 

It was around 10PM. Ashton lies on his filthy mattress and once again stares at the ceiling. He had left the fast food restaurant almost directly after Calum had. During the time frame, he had been staring out the window lazily. Just now, he had just finished typing his message to Calum that said “Sorry but I’m not going to the club tonight.” The problem is: He can’t find the courage to hit send.

Calum was practically his brother. They’ve known each other since they were small. Ashton had done his best to ensure that his friend was healthy and happy. He liked to see him smile.

And he knew that sending this text message to him would definitely not make him smile.

He lies in thought, unlocking his phone for the umpteenth time to continue staring at the message he has yet to send. Should he send it? He really did not want to go. But he knows if he does, he’d make Calum happy.

But  _he_  wouldn’t be happy. His happiness matters too, right?

He sighs and presses send before locking his phone. Hopefully Calum will understand.

Ashton slowly stands up and walks to the window. He stares outside once more, first at the bird building a nest on the building next to the apartment and next at the streets below. Traffic is really bad tonight. Though, the café doesn’t seem to be that busy. It was open late, and it’s not like he needed to sleep anyways.

He grabs his jacket off the floor and makes is way to the front door. Opening it, he steps out to close and lock it before walking down the three flights of stairs and out of the lobby.

It’s colder than it was earlier. Shivering, Ashton pulls the hood over his head. He pushes past the little amount of people that were out that night, ignoring their replies to his actions. He focuses on the sound of his shoes hitting the cement, staring at the ground ahead of him. Rain starts to fall, speckling the pavement. He begins to walk faster. The sooner he gets out of the rain, the better.

He reaches the café and pushes the door open, a bell sounding. He slowly walks to the counter, eyeing the menu. As he glances downward, he notices that no one is at the counter currently. He’ll have to wait. Sigh. He takes a seat at a table next to the window and near the counter.

Ashton turns in his seat to look out the window. It’s pouring now, and the few people who had been outside have either vanished or are now carrying umbrellas. The traffic has thinned by quite a lot. The outside seems so. . . Grey. The café was bright in comparison.

He notices his reflection in the window. His black jacket is zipped up, covering most of his torso. The hood was still on his head. He looked so pale; it was ghostly. He notices that his eyes are dull, having lost the normal shine that they had.

Reflecting on the past, he wonders if it was really the right decision to leave home. His siblings are probably crying right now, missing him. His mother is probably in an even worse situation. She could be suffering alcohol poisoning right now. If she was in the hospital, who would look after his siblings? Who would pay the bill? What would the three of them do if she  _died_?

Ashton shakes his head in an attempt to rid of these negative thoughts. Maybe Calum was right. Maybe he did need a partner. Hell, another friend would work just as well.

But where would he find someone? He didn’t know anyone. He sure as hell wasn’t going to start online dating. Maybe his new job would help. But wait, he hasn’t even gotten a call that says “You’re hired!” Then again, he hasn’t gotten a call that said he doesn’t get the job either.

Someone else’s reflection appears in the window, startling Ashton. He turns back around to see the cashier, who Ashton thinks is rather attractive.

The cashier has the bluest of eyes that pierce Ashton to the very core. His hair is blond, styled into a quiff. He wears a black lip ring. The green apron hangs loosely around his neck, and underneath he wears a black three quarter shirt, scrunched slightly at the elbows. He’s freakishly tall, and when Ashton squints he can see that his nametag reads “Luke.”

 Ashton is uncomfortable. He’s unsure why.

“May I help you?” Luke asks. His smile is bright.

Ashton shifts uneasily before standing and walking to the counter. “I-I’ll have. . . An iced coffee.” He doesn’t really want an iced coffee, but he doesn’t anything too fancy either. He raises an eyebrow as Luke chuckles. “What’s so funny?”

Luke immediately stops his chuckling. His face turns a pretty shade of pink as he says, “N-Nothing, I just wasn’t expecting you to have so simple a drink.”

Ashton tries to suppress the urge to smirk. “So, how much will that cost?” He pulls out his wallet from his back pocket.

When Luke doesn’t answer, he looks up, only to see Luke’s back facing him as he fixes the iced coffee. Luke turns back and sets the drink on the counter, brows furrowed in thought. An awkward minute passes before Luke speaks up. “You can have it for free.”

Ashton scoffs. “ _Free?_  Why are you giving it to me free?” Not that he’s complaining, though.

Luke’s face is crimson at this point. “B-because.” He pauses before adding, “You just looked so glum earlier.”

One of Ashton’s eyebrows quirks up. He knows damn well that isn’t the truth, but lets it go. “Thanks, then,” he mutters, picking up the coffee and turning to leave.

“Wait!!” Ashton sighs, turning his head to see Luke out of the corner of his eye. “H-have a nice day.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he mutters, continuing to walk out the door and into the heavy rain.

 

Ashton’s breathing is labored, and his body feels heavy. He had just arrived home, and unfortunately for him the rain hadn’t let up. If anything, it had just rained harder.

He drags himself to the bathroom and once there, he turns on the hot water so he can take a nice, long shower. He begins to peel his clothes off, refusing to acknowledge the multiple scars along his arms.

As he steps into the shower, he lets out a long sigh of relief. The water is ice cold, but he endures it. It’s best to not complain about it. He tried to the first night he moved in, but the landlord didn’t seem to care.

His mind drifts to the events that had happened earlier in the day, until finally he remembers being at the café merely 30 minutes ago. He remembers his sudden nervousness at the sight of Luke. How his stomach got butterflies and how his heart did flips. He enjoys the blush that had spread upon Luke’s cheeks. He thought it was adorable-

Adorable?

Since when did Ashton think that guys were adorable in any way? He wasn’t gay. He was sure of that. He’s never been attracted to a guy in his entire life. Ever. He only liked girls. Straight as a pole.

But, if he was straight, then what could explain his uncomfortableness? Why he didn’t want to leave the café? Why he wanted to see Luke again?

Not only did he wonder about Luke, he wondered why Luke gave him free coffee. It was a ridiculously nice gesture, even to someone he doesn’t even know. He had blushed, so that must mean something. Maybe Luke liked him. The possibility made Ashton’s heart race.

He takes deep breaths, realizing he wanted to figure this out as soon as possible. He was having doubts about his sexuality.

He’d visit Luke in the morning. He was sure of that.


	2. Chapter 2

Ashton literally rolled out of bed, falling onto the floor with a _thud_. He was silently grateful for the fact that he didn’t have a complete bed frame. He’s sure it would’ve hurt a lot more if he had been higher up. He struggled to get up, having slept in an uncomfortable position. He was sore.

He looked out the window, seeing different people rushing to get to work. Yawning, he looks for his phone. Not finding it on the mattress, he seeks out the jeans he wore yesterday. Finding them, he rummages through the pockets and finds his phone. He presses the home button, and the screen comes to life. It was 11:16AM.

Shit. If he had a chance of visiting Luke again, he should probably hurry up and get ready to go. He thinks over his options and their outcomes.

If he did go to the café right now, he might not even see Luke. Since Luke had been working at night, he would probably be at home right now, possibly asleep. Ashton was stupid to think he’d still be there.

But maybe he’d be there getting coffee? It was morning, and maybe Luke would need something to help him stay awake. But Ashton knows he shouldn’t get his hopes up. He’s been let down too many times.

Ashton bit his lip thoughtfully. He could always go and bother Calum.

Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.

Ashton drops the sweat pants he had worn to bed and puts on the same pair of jeans he wore yesterday. He slides his phone back into the pocket and searches around his room for a clean shirt to wear. He sees the Captain America shirt he had worn a few days ago and decides that it’s clean enough to wear without washing it. He puts it on.

Walking to the bathroom, he examines himself in the mirror. He looks pretty good, if he may say so himself. He runs his hand through his hair, not knowing what to do with it. He didn’t feel like brushing it if he was honest. Oh, well. He figured he didn’t need to brush his teeth as well, since he was just going to Calum’s house.

He walks out of his apartment after putting on his jacket. Wearing his jacket made him feel a lot safer. His arms had scars, and those scars held so many secrets he hid from everyone he knew. Calum didn’t know about them, albeit Ashton didn’t mind taking off his jacket in front of him. He walked down the stairs and into the apartment lobby, hands in his pockets. He only takes them out once to put his hood on. He paid no mind to the fact that his jacket was still slightly damp from the other night.

Pushing open the door to the outside world, he curses as the sun hits him in the face. He groans slightly as his jacket absorbs the heat, drying in the sun. He kept his eyes glued downwards, only looking up to see how far away he was from Calum’s house.

He lifts up the door mat and uses the key underneath to open the door when he gets there. He always did that; Calum never cared. Ashton hoped that Cal wouldn’t be mad that he hadn’t gone to the club with him.

“Cal?” he calls out into the house. “Calum? You up yet?” Calum may or may not have a hangover, but Ashton shouts regardless.

He hears rustling from one of the rooms. The living room, he suspects. His footsteps are quiet as he creeps through the kitchen and peeks through the doorway. He sees a foot that’s too white to be Calum’s, but from his position, he couldn’t see who it belonged to. He stalks forward, leaning in to get a better look. He sees the back of a bright-redhead, and is momentarily confused. But, he quickly remembers that Calum went to the club last night, so he probably took someone home.

He steps on something that gives him away, and looking down, he finds a piece of foil on the ground near the trash can. The person on the couch stirs, and Ashton feels he should make himself known before he ends up getting in more trouble. He enters the living room.

As the guy on the couch gets up from his position, Ashton sees that he had been laying on a certain Kiwi that goes by the name of Calum. How cute.

The guy turns his head when he sees Ashton’s shadow, and he jumps to his feet, waking Calum. “Don’t move or I’ll call the cops!!” he yells, causing Ashton to jump three feet in the air.

“Mikey, keep your voice down, my head fucking hurts!” Calum rubs his forehead, glaring at the redhead.

“Calum, get your phone and call the cops!!!” Mikey points at Ashton.

Calum sighs exasperatedly. “Ash, what are you doing here so early?” He sounds annoyed.

Mikey looks back and forth between the two. “You know each other?”

“He’s my best friend, jackass.” Ashton glares at Mikey, crossing his arms.

Calum sighs once again. “Ashton, this is Michael, a guy I met last night. Michael, this is Ashton, my. . . best friend.” Calum scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, avoiding the other two’s gazes.

“I wasn’t interrupting anything, was I?” Ashton takes a step back, ready to leave if necessary. He wasn’t very interested in what Calum did in his love life. Ash gagged internally.

“No, no, you weren’t! In fact, Michael was just _leaving_ , weren’t you, Michael?” Calum hints.

Michael frowns, muttering, “Yeah, I was. I’ll leave my number on the fridge.”

Calum nods in acknowledgement as Michael sidesteps past Ashton and makes his exit. He pats the spot on the couch next to him. “Something come up?”

“No. Just felt like stopping by,” Ashton lied. In truth, he was feeling pretty sad and didn’t want to be alone.

“How nice of you. Well, do you want anything?” Calum gets up and walks to the kitchen.

“Not really.”

“Then what’s wrong? You seem down.” Calum walks back in with a glass of water, drinking 3/4ths of it and setting it on the coffee table. “You can take your hood off now.” Calum pulls on the back of Ashton’s head, yanking off the hood.

Ashton takes deep breath, before saying, “I just need to pass the time.”

 

 

At 8 o’clock, Ashton left Calum’s house. He’d stayed there the whole day, not wanting to leave one of the few people who made him happy. Calum was willing to just sit in comfortable silence with Ashton, and Ashton was grateful for that. He was happy to have someone like that.

He decides to finally make an appearance at the café, eager to see what Luke’s up to. He pushes open the door, seeing Luke at the register. There’s a few more people in the café, since it isn’t too late yet. Luke blushes when he sees Ashton.

Ash walks up to the counter. Luke smiles, blush never disappearing. “H-how may I help you?”

Ashton’s smile is bitter. “Iced coffee,” is all he says.

Luke’s smile broadens cutely. “Right away!” He hurries to fix the drink.

In the meantime, Ashton observes the other people in the café. There’s one family, though, that catches his attention. A small girl sits with an elderly woman, perhaps her grandmother. There’s a teenage boy sitting next to the girl, staring out the window absentmindedly. The girl was laughing at something, and she tugged on the sleeve of the teenage boy, possibly her brother. He turned to her, smiling and then chuckling at something she had said. The elderly woman smiled at the two fondly.

The trio caused Ashton to remember his own family. The family he had abandoned, just like his father had.

Ashton hated himself for that. He had so many regrets, one of those regrets being leaving his family. He misses them.

They probably hated him. They hated him for leaving them. Even his siblings, who had always looked up to him, probably despised his being.

No, he mustn’t think about such things. Not in public.

Luke had set the iced coffee on the counter, and he was currently staring at Ashton worriedly. “Are you alright?” He was asking.

Ashton blinks, turning to stare at him with a blank expression. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. How much is it?”

‘”I-I’ll pay for it. You can have it free.” Luke’s words were gentle and sympathetic.

“Th-thanks. . .” Ashton takes the coffee and hurries out the door.

He wanted to go home before he ended up crying for the whole world to see.

 

 

Ashton lied on his mattress, curled in a ball and huddled underneath the blanket. Tears flowed freely down his cheeks, wetting the pillow beneath his head. He was trembling violently, body wracking with sobs.

Why did he think moving out was a good idea? Why did he just leave his brother and sister with his alcoholic mother?

She probably ruined their lives. The alcohol most likely turned her into a fierce monster, throwing things and hitting whatever gets in its way.

His siblings really did look up to him. They admired him, and he took care of them and loved them in return. He missed their occasional bickering, their questions about their homework, and everything else they did. He shouldn’t have left them. They were hurting too much.

Wobbly on his feet, he struggles to make his way to the bathroom. He topples over, tears blurring his vision.

Thoughts such as _You’re stupid_ and _How could you_ flew through his mind. He grabs the edge of the counter and hoists himself up.

Tears still obscuring his vision, he searches blindly for his razor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this was so short! the next one will be longer, i promise!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long; I've been having major writer's block when it comes to this story OTL

Crickets chirped in the late hours of the night, singing their gleeful songs, whereas a sad, sad boy lied down on his filthy mattress. Spots of blood had splattered onto it, including the pillow.

Ashton stared at his arm, tracing his fingers along the brand new scabs that he had made last night. Occasionally he would scratch at them, and they would break open and leak blood once again. His entire left arm was numb. His expression was blank, but his eyes were red and puffy due to hours and hours of crying. He’s been in bed since he came home on the night he nearly burst into tears in public.

And that was exactly 24 hours ago. He’s done nothing but cut and lie down and cut some more. His stomach whined for food, and his sore throat screamed for water.

He sits up, running a hand through the mess that is his hair. Standing, he walks to the bathroom on wobbly, aching feet, nearly stepping on the bloody razor he had brought over to the mattress the night before.

Reaching the bathroom, he leans on the counter, panting heavily. He looks up, looking through the few curls that danced in front of his face. He looked deathly pale. A few of the cuts on his arm had broken, crimson running down the length of his arm. He stares at it before he yanks his shirt over his head, his arm stinging as parts of the fabric grazes the open cuts. He unbuttons his pants and lets them fall to the floor. He turns on the water and waits to let it warm (not that it did) and gets in.

The water hitting his arm hurt like a bitch. He hisses in pain, his opposite hand flying to the wounds. He swears soap or shampoo got into the cuts, because it started stinging a whole lot more than it did when he first got in.

Once done, he throws on his clothes and jacket, heading for the door.

 

 

It feels colder than usual. Ashton’s unsure if it was just him or not. He walked with his head down and his hands stuffed in his jacket pockets. He jumps as he hears a crashing sound of thunder. It was oddly rainy this season.

He pushes past people, ignoring their indults and curses directed at him. It was freezing, and the cold arms and shoulders of the people he passed didn’t help one bit.

And honestly, he doesn’t know where to go. All he knew is that he didn’t want to be in that shithole of an apartment.

He nearly falls as he quickens his pace due to the slippery ground. His head hurts.

Ashton makes a sharp turn into an alley, stopping to lean against the wall of whatever building it was. He slowly slides down the wall and into the filthy and slightly muddy dirt ground of the alleyway.

Fresh tears stream down his face. It’s hard to decipher from the rain.

 

 

“Yeah, I’ll be there in a few minutes.” Luke walks quickly, phone pressed to his ear. He had to speak loudly into the phone because of the rain that only seemed to get heavier and heavier. He occasionally tuned out his mother to listen to pitters and patters the rain made on his red umbrella.

“Hurry up, dear, the weather’s getting worse by the minute,” his mother says over the phone.

“I know, Mum. I’m almost there.”

Then Luke pauses, seeing a familiar face in the alley he’s directly in front of. “Mum? I gotta let you go. Yeah, love you too. Later.” He hangs up, putting his phone in his pocket.

It’s his customer. That one, beautiful customer that always worried him. His curls hung in front of his face, dampened by the rain. A few were plastered against his forehead. His clothes were soaked, and he stared down at his lap miserably.

Luke walks over to him, hovering the umbrella over the customer. The customer looks up at him with the big hazel eyes he has. He stares at Luke with a blank expression, if not questioning.

“What are you doing?” Luke breaks the silence.

The customer is quiet for what seems like eternity before he finally responds. “Nothing.”

Luke doesn’t know what to say to that. He is glad, though, that he gave the customer free coffee. It looked like he barely had any money, much less an actual home. Luke swallows the lump in his throat before speaking. “Why don’t you go home?”

“Because it’s shit.” What a straightforward answer.

Luke goes silent. His mind panics, filled with worry and fear for the safety of this person. “Would you like to come to my house?”

“I want to be alone.” The customer cast his eyes downward, curling further into a ball.

“Being alone won’t help, though.” Luke’s tone is gentle, and he stares down at the customer with a kind, sympathetic gaze. He knows from experience. He sees the customer glance up at him, quickly looking back down. His lip quivers.

“I don’t care.” He rests his head on his arms, which rested on top of his knees.

Slow, painful minutes pass by of Luke standing there, holding the umbrella over this sad boy.

And finally deciding on an action, Luke plops down in the mud next to the customer. He holds the umbrella in between them so they both were out of the rain.

The customer jumps, scooting away slightly. Luke only closes the distance, pressing their shoulders together. “What the hell are you doing?” The customer glares at Luke.

“Warmth,” was the only response Luke gave. “What’s your name?”

The customer does nothing, only staring at Luke in bewilderment. “You should go home.”

“Only if you’ll come with me.”

“No way!” In spite of himself, the customer seems to cuddle up against Luke, savoring the heat.

“I won’t let you freeze to death out here.”

Dead silence. Several minutes pass before the customer speaks, albeit in a soft voice. Luke barely heard him because of the rain. “Ashton.”

“Hm?”

“My name is Ashton,” he says much more confidently.

“I’m Luke.”

“Yeah, I know.” Luke suddenly feels very awkward due to this response.

Another session of silence. Luke clears his throat. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” he asks after reluctantly.

“No. I barely know you.”

“You obviously need someone to talk to right now.”

Ashton mumbles something a moment later.

“I’m sorry?”

“I want to go to your house.”

 

 

All in all, Luke’s house was cozy. His family was out for the night, so the two had the whole house to themselves. Luke had put firewood in the fireplace, and he lent some clothes of his to Ashton. He had made tea as well, and watched silently as Ashton sipped it from the fancy white teacups. It’s cute how his eyes dart from object to object, examining the house thoroughly.

The two sat next to each other on the couch in front of the fireplace. “Do you want anything to eat?” Luke offers.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Ash, your stomach has been growling for the past fifteen minutes. Don’t lie to me.” Luke pouts, standing up from his spot on the sofa. “What do you want to eat?” he asks, putting his hands on his hips.

“Nothing.”

“Why not?”

“Because.”

“Ashton, if you don’t eat, I’m going to shove it down your throat myself.” He crosses his arms as Ashton glares at him. Luke won’t let him starve. A few moments pass, and Ashton slowly stands up, staring at the ground in defeat. He follows Luke into the kitchen whilst scowling, whereas Luke is smiling smugly.

Luke grabs a bowl from one of the cabinets, setting it on the counter. He pulls out a box of cereal, pouring some into the bowl, and opens the fridge to get the milk. He ignores Ashton’s raised eyebrow.

“Why cereal, of all things? It’s nighttime,” he finally remarks.

“Because it’s easy,” Luke immediately replies. He hears Ashton sigh. As he puts the bowl on the dining table, he sits down. Ashton does the same.

Noticing that the bowl isn’t close enough to Ashton, Luke slowly and gently pushes the bowl towards him, encouraging him to eat.

Ashton just stares down at the cereal.

Luke stares at Ashton staring at the cereal.

Ashton looks up, staring at Luke staring at him, who was originally staring at the cereal. “I’m not hungry.” Ashton finally breaks the silence after five thousand years.

“Have you eaten anything else today?” Luke asks.

“. . . No.”

“Eat.” He gestures to the cereal.

Ashton sighs (loudly, for your information), moving to pick up the spoon that Luke had placed next to the bowl on a napkin. As he reaches for it, his sleeve rides up, revealing his wrist. His wrist still had dry blood on it. He’d never bothered to clean it.

Luke gulps worriedly. “Ashton?”

“What?” He responds with a mouth full of food, not realizing what had occurred.

“Your wrist. . .”

Ashton instantly is set into a panic, pulling the sleeves down on both his wrists. He doesn’t say anything, only staring at the cereal with wide, nervous eyes.

“Ashton,” Luke says more firmly.

Ashton ignores him.

“Ash, show me your wrist.”

“Don’t call me Ash,” Ashton snaps. His jaw is clenched, and one hand fiddles with a piece of string attached to the sleeve.

“I-I’m sorry.” After a moment of silence and awkward eye contact, Luke repeats himself. “Show me your wrist.”

“No.”

“Ashton, I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

Ashton stands up abruptly. “I should get going. Thank you for having me.” He says politely. He starts walking to the front door with a fast pace, only stopping when Luke grabs his upper arm and turns him around. Forcefully, Luke grips his arms, yanking the sleeve up. Ashton’s breath hitches in pain.

Nearly Ashton’s entire arm was covered in cuts and scars and dry blood. Luke gaped at the sight. It was horrendous. Luke traces a few of the scars with his index finger as Ashton attempts to squirm out of his grasp.

“Does it hurt?” Luke’s voice is soft. He stares down at the arm with sad eyes.

“What do _you_ think?” Ashton glares at Luke, pulling his arm away violently. He holds it close to his chest defensively.

“Ashton. . .”

“I’m leaving.” Ashton once again turns to leave.

Luke makes sure to grab his shoulder instead of his arm this time when he stops him. Ashton doesn’t turn to look at him, instead grimacing down at the kitchen tiles. “How long have you been doing this?”

“A while.”

“Why?”

“Maybe it’s because my life is shit, Luke. Maybe it’s because my family hates me right now. Maybe it’s because God doesn’t give an absolute shit about us.”

Luke stands silently, mouth opening and closing again and again. “Ashton-“ He reaches out to Ashton, but Ashton only shies away.

“ _Don’t._ You barely know me. Stop trying to be the hero.”

“Ashton, s-stop.” Luke takes a step forward.

“Stop _what_ , Luke? Stop cutting? Stop hating my entire existence? It isn’t that easy, _Luke!!_ ” Ashton takes a few steps back, hands clenching into fists. His eyes are wild, darting from object to object in the kitchen, possibly searching for a weapon. Or a way out.

He’s afraid.

Luke recognizes this. He holds both his hands up to show he means no harm. “Ashton, please calm down-“

“Calm down? I _am_ calm!!!”

Without thinking, Ashton takes one of the knives from the butcher block sitting on the counter, pointing it at Luke.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Feedback is very much welcome!! i want to know what you think orz


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